
By Eric Myers | Soul of a Writer | April 17, 2026
Fiction lives and dies by its characters. If your readers don’t feel something for them, they’ll quietly close your book, promise to come back, and never open it again.
I’ve edited hundreds of stories where the plots were solid, but the people inside them felt flat—like characters wearing good costumes but no pulse. And as a pastor and therapist, I’ve learned something powerful: people and characters become unforgettable for the same reason—they’re complex, vulnerable, and alive from the inside out.
Here are nine ways writers accidentally drain life out of their characters—and how faith, empathy, and courage can bring them back to life.
“The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters, but one who has insight draws them out.” — Proverbs 20:5
1. Balancing the Head and the Heart
Some characters think too much. Others feel too much. Most of mine—at least early on—leaned in one direction but never both.
When I first started writing, I created characters who could quote theology and psychology but couldn’t express pain. I realized later I wasn’t writing people—I was writing resumes.
Jesus modeled perfect balance. He was brilliant enough to confound scholars at twelve, yet compassionate enough to weep at a friend’s grave. Readers connect with that same mix of intellect and emotion.
Ask yourself: does your character think deeply but love poorly—or love deeply but think rarely? The answer may point to where your story’s heart is missing.
2. Too Likable for Their Own Good
I once protected my protagonists like they were fragile versions of me. I wanted them to be admirable—but I made them unrelatable.
Perfection is boring, and holiness isn’t the same as flawlessness.
David was a liar, adulterer, and murderer, yet God still described him as “a man after My own heart.” (Acts 13:22)
Readers don’t fall in love with saints—they fall in love with sinners learning to be saints. Let your character fail, regret, and redeem themselves. Flaws don’t repel readers; they reassure them.
3. The Unnecessary Sidekick Problem
Ever give your protagonist a sidekick just so they had someone to talk to? Guilty. In my first novel, I added a quirky friend who existed only to echo what the hero already thought. If I deleted her, nothing changed.
“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” — Proverbs 27:17
Side characters should challenge, shape, or transform your main one. If removing them doesn’t affect the story’s climax, they don’t belong. Every relationship needs narrative purpose—otherwise, it’s filler.
4. Over Describing Instead of Revealing Character
Once upon a time, I spent paragraphs describing hair color, posture, and shoes. Readers smiled politely, then skimmed.
True description flows from the heart, not the mirror.
“Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” — Matthew 12:34
A line like “She twisted the silver ring she hadn’t removed since her father’s funeral” tells you more than paragraphs of physical detail. Stop painting faces—start showing wounds.
5. Forgetting to Balance Light and Shadow
In one story, I opened with a character stealing food. Readers hated him. He was clever, but cruel. So I rewrote the scene—he still stole, but this time it was to feed his little sister. Suddenly, he wasn’t a villain; he was human.
That’s grace in storytelling: the balance between sin and sympathy.
“Mercy triumphs over judgment.” — James 2:13
If your reader sees only the sin, they’ll condemn your character. If they see the reason behind it, they’ll care.
6. The Ghost Character Trap
Ghost characters wander in, deliver one line, then vanish forever. I used to fill drafts with them—waiters who reveal plots, taxi drivers who offer advice, random baristas with prophetic insight.
In life, God doesn’t waste people. In fiction, neither should we.
Think of John 4: one conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman changed an entire community.
Every character should matter—or be merged into someone who does. Let your main characters do the heavy lifting; let small moments still echo eternity.
7. Missing Parallel and Perpendicular Relationships
Every story needs both allies and opposites—those who mirror the hero and those who oppose them. I used to write only enemies and forget the faithful companions. But the greatest growth often comes through their interplay.
Ruth had Naomi, but also famine and grief. Peter had John, but also denial and shame. Both kinds of relationships make a hero whole.
“Two are better than one… If either falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10
Your characters need conflict and belonging. They shape each other, just as believers sharpen one another through tension and trust.
8. When Everyone Sounds the Same
My first book read like a monologue with five people pretending to be different. Same sarcasm. Same voice. Same rhythm.
I finally realized: if all my characters sound like me, I’m not writing a story—I’m hosting a therapy session.
“There are many parts, but one body.” — 1 Corinthians 12:20
Every person in your book should have their own cadence, convictions, and vocabulary. Let one whisper when another shouts; let one pray while another doubts. Diversity in voices keeps readers listening.
9. Missing Inner Conflict
The strongest conflict isn’t between characters; it’s within them.
A writer once asked me why her perfect protagonist felt dull. I said, “Because he never wrestles.” Faith without wrestling becomes performance, and fiction without inner tension becomes propaganda.
Even Jesus prayed, “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me,” before surrendering to the cross. — Luke 22:42
Let your characters wrestle with motives vs. morals, fear vs. faith, calling vs. comfort. That’s what makes them human—and unforgettable.
When you fix these nine mistakes, your stories will come alive again. Because great fiction mirrors faith: flawed people finding redemption step by step.
Take one character in your draft this week and ask, “Where’s the lie they believe—and what truth is God inviting them to discover?”
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” — Philippians 1:6
Keep writing and trust the process. You were made to share your writing with the world.
Eric Myers,
Founder of Soul of a Writer — helping you become the writer God meant you to be.